


Hold You 'Til You Breathe Again

by WincestSounds (Cammerel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Asthmatic!Sam, M/M, RP, Weecest, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform, wee!cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/WincestSounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had nightmares about that before, waking up with his hand on his brother’s chest, to realize that Sam wasn’t breathing. Or being home alone with Sam when an attack hit, and losing his brother. Dean wouldn’t make it out of that either. It always scared the hell out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold You 'Til You Breathe Again

**Author's Note:**

> Ages: Dean - 19, Sam - 15

It had been about half an hour since the school bell rang and Sam stood impatiently with his hands buried in his jacket, waiting for Dean to pull up. The cold was biting at him, making any his of exposed skin completely numb. It wasn’t like Dean to forget to pick Sam up after school, he’d always been sort of religious about it.

The younger Winchester huffed out of annoyance and began walking towards their hotel, snow crunching under his boots. Thankfully, the hotel wasn’t far away but, being in the cold for this long, was going to wreak havoc on his breathing. He wanted to be mad at Dean for leaving him at the school,  _stranded_ , but Sam kept convincing himself that his brother must have had a good reason.  
  
Sam’s numb finger’s fumbled at the door knob and he pushed into the room with his hip. He made sure he slammed the door, hoping Dean would realize that he forgot about Sam.

Sam dropped his backpack next to the door and looked around as he bent over to untie his boots, unable to see his brother from his strained line of vision, “Dean!” The younger Winchester had to exert his voice harder than usual, the cold air still packed in his chest.  
  
Dean had had a rough day, but they were  **always**  rough, considering, they just were never  **this**  bad. He thought that after he’d quit school and took his GED, that things would be easier, that he’d have more free time, but John had him out doing stuff on his own as well, even when their father was gone;  **especially**  when their father was gone.

Dean was normally expected to take care of the bulk of things at home, getting them money, buying the groceries, replacing anything Sam broke, taking care of their weapons and keeping everything in tip-top shape.  
Whatever methods he got them together in, were his business and his alone, and John never asked anyways. He’d run into nasty things on his path through growing up, the men the dealt cards out to a nineteen year old weren’t normally the kind you wanted around kids, or even existing, in most cases. He expected trouble though, Dean was always ready, and he wasn’t easily overwhelmed or taken down. He couldn’t carry his gun on his person, but  _fuck_  if he didn’t have a knife within reach each time he left the motel.

He got tied up this time, fortunately it wasn’t literally, but it was certainly close enough. He had a stiff lip and a sore jaw to show for it, ribs that might need a weak or two to mend, but it wasn’t anything permanent.

When he got home, he knew it was late, he knew it was  _too_  late. But he was so sore, and so beaten, that the first thing he did when he got in was to lay down and pass out. He woke up probably two hours after that, stiffer than before, and moved into the kitchen to get something for the pain when he heard the door open and his stomach bottomed out.  _Oh **fuck** , Sam. Sam had walked home._

Dean turned to look out the window and nearly kicked himself in the stomach as guilt washed over him. _Sam had walked home alone in the cold._   ** _Fuck_**. He moved into the living room, eyes wide, “Sammy, shit, kiddo, hey.”

Sam shucked his jacket off and put it on the coat-rack, eyes scanning Dean’s face curiously; Sam was right, looked like Dean had a  _damn_  good reason as to why he forgot about him. The warmth of the room started heating his fingers and his cheeks up, which was better than nothing so he’d take it, “I was gonna be mad at you,” Sam’s voice was a little broken and he was wheezing, “But I can’t be mad at you considerin’ you look like shit.”

The younger Winchester rubbed a hand over his own chest absentmindedly, the warm air mixing with the cold that had already settled in his chest, making it feel tight.

Dean shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, s’not a good enough excuse, M’sorry,” He moved to his brother, reaching out and touching his chest, “I can’t believe you walked all th’way home in that weather, Sammy.” The older Winchester was still in his own jacket, even his shoes were on, making it look like he’d  **literally**  just gotten home.

His toes hurt from the boots being on his feet while he’d slept and the bust in his lip was worse than before, but he couldn’t see  _just_  how bad it really was.

“What was I supposed to do?” Sam coughed a little and grabbed his chest again, he leaned in as he squinted at Dean’s lip, “Don’t worry about it, looks like someone got my revenge for me.” The younger Winchester smiled warmly, he couldn’t be mad at Dean, not after seeing how busted up he looked. Besides, his asthma hadn’t been  **really**  bad lately and was all around manageable at least.

His chest  **was**  hurting a little more than usual though, each breath more strained than the last; but that’s not something he wanted to worry Dean with right now, it would pass.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” Dean said flippantly, avoiding Sam’s comment and he dropped his hand from Sam’s chest to remove his own jacket now, moving back and sitting down stiff and sore, ribs protesting as he bent low to take off his shoes, “How’s your breathin’?”

“Hurts,” Sam answered honestly, the whole word was almost just one big wheeze. The younger Winchester put his right hand on the wall and let his head hang slack between his shoulders as he started coughing.

Anytime Sam tried to catch a breath it became more difficult, causing him to wobble a little at the light-headedness. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to have to sit and hold him for an hour or two until his breathing went back to normal. They had both learned pretty early on that Sam’s inhaler’s never did much for him, the comfort of Dean talking him through it as he rocked Sam in his arms  **always**  did. It wasn’t something Sam could explain, but his brother always put him at ease.

“Sam?” Dean’s eyes widened and he rushed to his brother’s side, despite his own bruises and pains. He reached out, grabbing Sam’s shoulders and drawing him in.

“Goddammit,” He said weakly, looking back across the room to the duffel-bag and his brother’s inhaler. It probably wasn’t even worth it to try. He knew the smaller boy was most likely worse than he’s  **ever**  been, considering the weather outside and the distance from the motel to the school.

“Come on, let’s lay down, okay?” The older Winchester suggested, motioning to the bed.

In between hoarse coughs and wheezes, Sam managed to nod a little as he wrapped his left arm around Dean’s shoulder’s weakly, his head was pounding at the lack of oxygen. He had gone almost six months since his last asthma attack and Sam knew without a doubt it was because he’d walked home in the cold. Every intake of breath made Sam wince in pain and inevitably made him cough a little more.

Their dad was hardly ever around when one of Sam’s spells hit, so it was up to Dean to figure out how to deal with the situation by himself. The younger Winchester couldn’t forget the look of sheer panic on Dean’s face whenever he realized Sam’s inhaler didn’t help, but being the  **best**  big brother in the world, and Sam would never admit that to Dean, the older Winchester had found a pretty effective method of calming Sam down by accident.

It was simple but it worked none the less. Even with the room spinning and the pain from the tightness in Sam’s chest, as long as he focused on Dean’s words and his warm touches, Sam always ended up okay.

Dean moved Sam towards the bed, this time stopping long enough to remove his jeans before he took his brother up, drawing him down onto the mattress with himself. His arms wrapped, one around Sam completely, the other resting on his chest as he held his brother close. It always scared him to see Sam this way, no matter how use to it at this point, he was, he always got so terrified.

_Maybe this time, holding him won’t calm him down like it always does, what if it’s too bad this time? What if he doesn’t make it?_

He had nightmares about that before, waking up with his hand on his brother’s chest, to realize that Sam wasn’t breathing. Or being home alone with Sam when an attack hit, and losing his brother. Dean wouldn’t make it out of that either. It always scared the hell out of him.

He held Sam tight now, like a lifeline, and though his words comforted Sam, they were actually, normally used to calm  _himself_  down.

“You’re fine, baby boy,” He said, “You jus’ keep breathin’ alright? M’sorry. After this, we can go out. We’ll get you somethin’, anythin’ you want. Can go to th’library, f’you want.”

Sam didn’t know and never really wanted to know what he looked like when an attack hit, he was sure he looked like something out of an exorcist movie; his arms and hands always flailing for any part of Dean he could reach, because as much as he always had to tell Dean it was no big deal after he’d calmed down, it  **always**  scared the shit out of Sam.

The sharp constricting in Sam’s chest caused a few tears to spill.

_This hurts more than the last time. Keep breathing, keep breathing._  Sam tried hanging on to Dean’s every word even though his vision had become substantially blurred due to his breathing pattern.

The younger Winchester had tried to remind himself to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, but whenever his own panic set in, it was difficult for Sam to focus on more than just his brother’s words.

Dean was practically numb at this point, bringing his brother in closer, his nose pressing against the cold skin of Sam’s left temple. The younger Winchester was red in the face now and Dean was starting to really, **really**  worry. His hand rubbed the center of Sam’s chest as he spoke, mindless comforts coming out from between his lips. “You’re alright, baby boy,” He was saying, “That’s right, jus’ keep breathin’, okay? You’re fine, you’re safe. I promise I won’t miss pickin’ you up again. I gotchya, okay? Jus’ keep breathin’ an’ we’ll get through this, baby boy.”

The younger Winchester could feel the constriction starting to ease up, a few breaths were coming easier. Sam had Dean’s shirt balled in his fists so tight his knuckles had started to turn white and he tried focusing on that, focusing on just how much he  **needed**  Dean sometimes.  _In through your nose and out through your mouth, Sam, come on._

Sam took a few deep breaths like he’d instructed himself as he settled his watery eyes on Dean, he hated the look on his brother’s face whenever this happened, it always made Sam feel guilty even though he couldn’t control it. The wheezing had almost subsided completely, but the coughing was still there.

Sam was pretty sure this was the quickest Dean had ever gotten him to calm down, but then again, the younger Winchester’s concept of time during one of his fits was completely obscured by the pain. More times than not, Sam had always come to find out that they always lasted longer than they seemed. What felt like twenty minutes to Sam, always ended up actually being an hour.

Dean continued to rub his hand over Sam’s chest  _long_  after he’d gotten exhausted of doing it, the muscles sore in his side and back, protesting more now, but they were meaningless to him and he watched the color slowly drain back from his brother’s cheeks in relief. Words passing his lips didn’t even filter through his brain before they came out now, he just spoke whatever came to him, promising Sam things, reminding him of previous trips to places they’d enjoyed together, baby crib rhymes or useless jokes that neither of them laughed at anymore, he just used them to bring his brother back.

His own heart was still racing, and he knew he’d be able to add this one to the endless lists of times when he was sure he, himself, was going to die. He hated this, hated feeling like this, but Dean was so use to it at this point that it didn’t even pick up on his radar anymore. It was normal. Normal, to be so completely fucking terrified for his baby brother.

It had been about five minutes since Sam last coughed, or so he thought, he tried counting the seconds in his head. His breathing wasn’t quite as strained, hardly at all really.

Thinking about it now, he could feel his fingers and the ache that settled in them from gripping Dean so tight. The younger Winchester dropped his hands and flexed them, willing away the stiffness as he counted the freckles on Dean’s face.

Sam never focused on one thing for too long, because eventually it would just stop working all together. The sun kissed looking dots all over Dean’s face were usually the last thing he focused on, usually losing count somewhere in the fifties.

The younger Winchester took one last deep breath to test himself before he spoke up, “M’ sorry, Dean.” Sam’s voice was still a little strained, but that was understandable considering what he’d just went through.

Dean shook his head at once, smiling warmly to Sam as his fingers brushed through the back of his brother’s hair, “Don’t apologize, baby boy. S’long as you’re okay, alright?” He visibly relaxed then, but drew his brother closer, trying to keep himself in check. The last thing he needed was to completely lose it in front of Sam. But his heart was aching so bad now, overworked, strained from being so terrified for his brother; it was everything he could do not to shake like a leaf.

Sam leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, sighing audibly out of relief, “That’s probably the worst it’s ever been,” The younger Winchester scooted closer and draped his arm over Dean’s side gently, trying to avoid any injuries that Sam might not of known about. Sam wasn’t so simple minded that he thought his attacks only hurt him, he knew they took a toll on Dean too, and all Sam wanted to do was make his brother feel better in turn.

“That was definitely the worst, I can assure you,” Dean said, smiling weakly and his lower lip trembled for a moment so he took it up in his mouth. He closed his eyes, hand running through Sam’s hair more, cradling his head close as Dean kept a firm grip on his own breathing, pacing it with his heart beats.

Sam could feel his insides twist just from the look on Dean’s face, a mixture of relief and still being scared out of his mind. The younger Winchester wasn’t sure when he started noticing the wild beauty in his brother’s features, but he was pretty sure it was around the time when his angsting teenage hormones hit. Which, incidentally was around the same time when Dean had derived the plan to help Sam calm down from his asthma attacks.

They were never in one place for too long, so Sam almost felt like it was normal to feel the way he did about Dean, with him being the only constant in Sam’s life.

Sam didn’t want Dean to feel guilty about the asthma attack, which Sam knew he did anyway, so the younger Winchester splayed his hand on the side of Dean’s face and pressed his forehead to his brother’s. “Hey,” Sam started softly, thumbing his brother’s new stubble, “It’s okay, I’m still in one piece.”

“Yeah, I–” Dean’s voice was shaky and weak, and he could barely hear it through the sound of blood pumping in his ears, his heart beat thundering through everything as he kept himself at rest, “I can see that, baby boy,” He whispered now, opening his eyes and staring into Sam’s. He tried to smile for his brother, but he knew it wasn’t nearly convincing enough.

“That won’t happen again,” He said, voice stronger and more determined, “I promise, I won’t mess up again, alright? You won’t ever have to walk home alone, not ever; you have my word.”

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was a little stronger than last time, “Look at you,” The younger Winchester brushed his knuckle lightly against Dean’s busted lip, “S’okay, I forgive you.” Sam would have forgiven Dean even if he wouldn’t have gotten his ass beat, that’s just the way their dynamic worked.

He knew that Dean just wouldn’t let it go though, that’s not how his brother was. When Dean felt guilt, it was usually to the extent of him losing sleep over it and Sam was going to make sure that didn’t happen.

The older Winchester, true to Sam’s thoughts, shook his head at once and then leaned into his brother’s touch, staring into Sam’s eyes sincerely, “M’sorry, s’no excuse for missin’ you.” He couldn’t stop the throng of thoughts in his head, his father’s voice scolding him, reminding him to watch out for Sam, to take care of him, that his brother was his priority; John didn’t even understand.

Sam was everything to Dean, more than just his brother, more than anything definable within human words, there wasn’t a term for it. If Sam died, Dean died, end of story. And now he’d let his brother down, again. He was always letting Sam down.

“Listen,” Sam furrowed his brows at how stubborn his brother was being, “It’s over, I’m fine and I forgive you.” The younger Winchester always hated direct eye contact for a long period of time, he felt like eventually people would be able to hear what he was thinking. It was different with Dean, his big brother was the one person he wanted to be able to hear his thoughts.

A little bit of light humor always worked, so Sam gave it a shot, “Now cheer up,” Sam grinned, “I’ll even hook you up with Jenny from my math class.” Just because Sam couldn’t have what he wanted, didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try to make Dean happy.

Dean raised an amused brow and smirked, “Now that’s a thought,” He said, pushing the mask carefully into place. He patted Sam’s head, fingers combing through his brother’s hair before rolling away, onto his back and letting out a heavy breath.

“Yeah, she thinks you’re hot,” Sam rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, he propped his head up on his hand and watched Dean, “Consider it a gift for takin’ such good care of me.” Sam knew he wouldn’t have to bribe Jenny very hard to go out with Dean, he was pretty sure she’d jump at the opportunity. It made Sam’s stomach tie up in knots though, he didn’t want Dean to be with anyone else.

The older Winchester licked his lips, ignoring the twinge of annoyance at his own facade, and turned to his brother, looking over his features before pulling Sam into a side hug, “So, d’you wanna go to the library? Considerin’ I owe you.” He didn’t remember much of what he’d promised his brother, but he could recall that, at least.

Sam’s smile faded a little bit, “I thought maybe we could rent a movie and come back here or something.” The last thing Sam wanted to do was spend the rest of the day in the library when he’d rather be cuddled up to his big brother. Sam nudged at Dean’s arm and flashed a hopeful grin.

Dean chuckled, anything he could do to stay away from the library, “I like your style,” He sat up, hiding the wince of pain from the pull in his ribs as he stood and moved around to where he’d kicked off his boots. He bent down, swallowing back a gasp as he started to pull them on, “So, horror flick?”

“Only if you plan on holdin’ my hand through the whole thing,” Sam joked and thought that maybe that didn’t sound quite so bad. The younger Winchester rolled off the other side of the bed and went over next to the door to slide his boots on.

“Anythin’ you want, Sammy boy,” Dean said, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on, joining his brother’s side as he tucked his wallet into his side pocket. He locked up the motel door behind them and bristled at the cold, feeling it like a smack of insult in his face, reminding him that Sam had walked through all of this alone.

It was dark already, dark enough to cause discomfort in Dean’s stomach and he clutched the butt of his blade in the hand that wasn’t firmly attached to Sam’s.

Sam felt a blush creeping up on his face, like fire in his cheeks, “We haven’t even gotten the movie yet, Dean,” The younger Winchester glanced at their hands and chuckled a little. Sam had been joking mostly, but his fingers being intertwined with Dean’s admittedly felt good, normal even.

“I know, I just,” Dean’s eyes flicked out around them, watching a group of men across the street as he moved, head held high as he walked his brother to the shiny black Impala, hand squeezing Sam’s firmly as he threw the men the most violent, dark look he could manage within the moment.

Sam’s eyes followed Dean’s and he knew he was just being a protective older brother, so much for hoping he was holding Sam’s hand just because he wanted to, “Stop treatin’ me like I’m a piece of glass.” At fifteen, Sam was almost taller than Dean even though he hadn’t quite filled out the way his older brother did, he was sure he could handle himself.

The older Winchester looked at his brother, nostrils flared as he stared seriously into Sam’s eyes, “Look, I trust you. I know you can take care’a yourself in a fight, alright? Just trust me on this. We don’t  **wanna**  hafta fight those guys, you hear me?” His voice was lower than he intended, but he hoped it got his point across, “Trust me on that.”

“I d-do, I do trust you,” Sam nodded, “But you don’t have to treat me like a kid.” Their dad did enough of treating Sam like a helpless little kid, he didn’t want Dean to do it to.

“I’m not treatin’ you like a kid,” Dean retorted, throwing the men another look, “I’m treatin’ you like I want to see you reach sixteen.” He moved then, unlocking Sam’s door first and holding it open for his brother.

Sam slid into the Impala and crossed his arms, huffing a cloud of steam around himself. For someone who was claiming he wasn’t a kid anymore, he wasn’t doing a whole lot to prove the point.

Dean walked around the car, opening the door and climbing into the driver’s side. The leather seats were cold and squeaked as he moved, starting her up and pulling out of the motel parking lot. He turned on the heat at once, taking his brother’s hands and pressing them to the air vent, “Get in close, it’ll be a moment.”

Sam leaned up next to the vents, rubbing his hands together impatiently, “Why were those guys glarin’ at us like that?”

“It’s nothin’,” Dean said at once, eyes set firm on the road as he sped up onto the highway, trying to ignore the soft white puffs of air in front of his mouth. He reached down, turning his own vent toward his brother.

“You’re doin’ it again,” Sam put the vent back on Dean and shook his head out of annoyance, “You need to stop.”

“Look, I got a leather jacket on, I don’t need heat,” Dean turned the vent once more, “Stop bein’ a brat, alright? You got breathin’ problems, you’ve had an attack today already, I don’t want you havin’ another one. You know what I get from the cold? Cold. Now stop arguin’ with me, an’ deal with it.”

“Fine,” Sam sat back in his seat and bounced his knees, “Let’s just get the movie and get back so you can make me some hot chocolate,” Sam forced a smarmy grin towards Dean.

Dean nodded, turning the music on low, just enough to pick up the soft curls of Guns n’ Roses as he dropped his head back slightly, shifting in his seat as he drove, “Sounds good.”

*CUT SCENE*

Sam had dressed down to his pajama clothes and pulled his knees up to his chest, the covers drawn clear up to his neck. The younger Winchester couldn’t help but smile as he watched Dean making the hot chocolate that Sam had wanted. It warmed his heart to know that Dean would do anything for him, also made him a little uneasy too.

Dean stood in the kitchen, the dark green shirt hugging his chest, tight black boxer briefs the only thing covering him from waist down. He preferred the cold, in some senses, at least more often than the heat. He poured the milk he’d carefully heated into the large mug, dumping three spoonfuls of hot chocolate mix into it and stirring slowly. He moved to the refrigerator, grabbing one of the beers from the top shelf and popping it open against the counter before joining his brother’s side, handing the mug over before climbing onto the bed next to Sam.

Sam took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate then pressed his warm lips to Dean’s cheek, “Thanks.” The liquid heated his insides and as silly as it sounded, Sam was positive it warmed him up clear down to his toes. The younger Winchester snuggled up next to Dean and sighed contently.

“Welcome,” Dean said as his heart raced and he wrapped his arm around Sam’s back, drawing him in close against the side of his chest as the movie started up. He sipped at his beer before pressing a kiss of his own against the top of Sam’s head.

“This is nice,” Sam tilted his head up and looked at Dean, shaking his shaggy hair out of his eyes. Being this close to Dean always had Sam’s stomach in knots, knowing that it’d never be more than this.

The older Winchester smiled and nodded, sipping his beer and brushing his hand over his brother’s neck on the other side, keeping the skin warm under his fingers as he looked down at Sam, an intense, unblinking stare, “Yeah,” He agreed, the alcohol on his breath hitting Sam’s face full force.

Sam’s eyes flickered to Dean’s mouth nervously, apprehension settling in Sam’s voice, “Hey, uh, Dean.” The younger Winchester licked his own lips and tried to keep his eyes strictly on Dean’s.

“Mm?” Dean asked, watching his brother’s tongue swipe out, lips glistening with spit and the older Winchester’s fingers were moving, curling into the hair behind his brother’s ear, “What?” He asked, voice low and heated.

Sam was sure he must’ve been losing his mind, but he needed to get something out there or it was going to drive him nuts, “I think I have feeling’s for someone,” He watched Dean’s face cautiously, “You’re better at it than I am, what’s the best way to tell ‘em?” Sam turned his body a little more towards Dean without breaking contact.

Dean shrugged, smiling slightly at his brother’s clear innocence, even though it tugged at his chest in a way he didn’t want it to. He sipped his beer and answered, “You tell ‘em, plain n’ simple. How else you think you’re gonna get anywhere, f’you don’t tell ‘em? Just say, well… That you think they’re, I dunno, beautiful? Looks are normally the first step n’ those kinda things.” He smirked, “Girls like it when you say they’re beautiful. Pretty won’t get you far.”

Sam swallowed hard and looked away nervously, “What if it’s not a girl?” His words were loud enough for Dean to hear, Sam was still hoping he didn’t though.

The older Winchester’s brows rose, “Well…” He chuckled. It wasn’t often that his brother could one-up him completely, but Dean  **did**  have a solid answer for that, “Tell him he’s gorgeous.” He shrugged, “S’probably best to see f’he likes men, first, though. F’he’s at least acceptin’ of, you know, **gay guys** , chances are he won’t do you much harm, f’you make a more  **bold**  move, like sayin’ he’s gorgeous.”

Sam looked back at Dean, “Well how do I find out if he likes guys?” _You’re gorgeous, Dean._  The younger Winchester pulled his knees back up and focused on what Dean was saying, ironic really, that he was taking his brother’s advice just so Sam could use it on him.

“That’s not always so obvious,” Dean tried to explain, brows scrunching up as he looked at his brother, “Your best bet there, is to ask. Maybe don’t be so blunt ‘bout it, anythin’ like… ‘Are you gay’. Most find bold questions like that really uncomfortable. Even then, at your age, most guys don’t really know  **what**  they want. Some times they don’t know most of their lives. Some times they have to be pushed into it, some times circumstances change things. Some times, some times men aren’t particularly  _gay_. Some times they can just be attracted to  **one**  guy, an’ one guy only. So it all depends.”

Sam put his hands out as if to explain, “Well, he’s not exactly the same age as me, he’s a little older,” The younger Winchester sighed and ran a hand over his face, “It’s just him though, I’ve never really felt this way about another guy. I don’t know what to do though, ‘cause I’ve only ever seen him with chicks.”

The older Winchester shook his head, “That don’t mean a thin’. More often than not, guys that sleep with  **too**  many women, or seem to go out of their way to flirt horrendously, or brag or obsess, they’re normally coverin’ somethin’ up, one way or another.”

A small hint of humor splayed itself across Sam’s lips and he narrowed his brows, “Wait, are you-I mean, do you… like guys?” Considering that Dean pretty much just described himself, Sam didn’t feel so bad for asking. The younger Winchester could feel a little hope building in his chest.

Dean narrowed his brows, realizing what he’d said at once, “I… Well, I’d like to consider myself to be more… Open-minded. It’s not that I’m straight or gay or anythin’. I don’t really think I need a title, do you? I mean, why be limited?”

“Right,” Sam grinned and propped himself up on his knees out of excitement, “Well, If you were gonna tell a guy that you like him and I mean  **really**  like him, how would you do it? What would you even say?”

“Well, with me, it’s normally obvious f’they do, they’re normally chekin’ me out, an’ they come up to me, not the other way ‘round,” Dean found himself amused in his brother’s interest, so he tried to supply better advice to the younger Winchester, “But, f’it was me, I’d probably just go with tellin’ him he was gorgeous.” Again, he felt that twist in his chest, the one that fought with the other part of him, one being glad he could give his brother advice, the other part of him terrified that Sam would  _use_ it.

Sam thought on it for a moment and wondered if Dean would actually like to be called  **gorgeous**  or if he’d give Sam a noogie for saying it, “And you think he’d actually wanna be called gorgeous?” Sam squinted his eyes a little, seriously, “I just don’t wanna get hit,” Sam tried a different approach, “I mean, what do you like guys to do when they hit on you?”

Dean frowned, shaking his head, “I think that’s enough questions, Sam,” He said finally, feeling his mouth dry up and he took a sip of his beer. Like he was going to tell his brother that most guys just wanted sex, and they didn’t bother holding back when first talking to him. He was hoping he’d be able to give his brother a… Different side of it. But Sam was always so insistent. “I told you what I’d say, what more d’you want?”

“It’s just that this guy I like, he’s a lot like you when it comes to personality and what not,” Sam shrugged, feeling a little guilty for lying to Dean, “Sorry for askin’, I just thought it’d help me work up the nerve to tell him.”

The older Winchester turned and looked at his brother, “Yeah, **I’d**  like to hear those things. In my opinion, it’s nicer n’ the alternative. It’s okay to hear  _nice_  things for once. Not every guy wants their introduction to another person to be sex related. Guys can be like girls n’ that sense, some times. Like to hear nice thin’s about themselves. Not every guy is like that, not even most, but some are.”

Sam took the beer from Dean’s hand and leaned across him to put it on the night stand. The younger Winchester focused his gaze on Dean, grinning in an almost innocent way as he straddled his brother’s thighs. Sam grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and looked him over in a appreciative way, “You  **are**  gorgeous,” Sam bit his bottom lip nervously before he leaned in to Dean’s ear, “Like that?”

“Sam–” Dean’s eyes widened as his hands set on Sam’s hips, mouth suddenly dry and blinking up into his brother’s stare, shocked and stunned speechless for a second before he registered what Sam had said, “Yeah… Like that.” He licked his lips, staring at the younger Winchester’s, “Just like that.”

Sam pulled back a little, his face still close to Dean’s, “So you think this’ll work on him?” The younger Winchester’s voice was low and almost gritty, sly smile still on his lips.

“I’d be disappointed f’it didn’t,” Dean said dryly, eyes still wide, thumbs squeezing Sam’s hipbones. If his brother didn’t move, and fast, he wasn’t going to be able to be held accountable for whatever he did following.

Sam shifted a little, accidentally grinding his hips against Dean. The heat from his brother’s hands still planted firmly on his hips almost made him whimper a little, “Guess I’ll have to let you know if it does or not.” Sam didn’t make an attempt to move though, he let his hands relax and lay flat on Dean’s abdomen.

Dean’s eyes darkened considerably and he nodded, “Yeah, you do that.” _Christ_ , being in this position with his brother was making it very, **very hard**  to keep himself in check. He licked his lips, one hand moving up just ever slightly, fingers touching the warm skin of his brother’s side.

Sam put his right hand against the headboard and leaned back in, his lips ghosting the shell of Dean’s ear, “Hey, Dean…”

The older Winchester stilled, turning so that his stubble brushed against Sam’s jaw, “Sammy?”

Sam grinded down intentionally this time, “Is this working?” Considering this was the first time he’d ever done anything to this extent, Sam was kind of proud of himself for not letting his nerves get the best of him.

Dean groaned in surprise before he grabbed his brother’s hips tighter in his fists and pushed them back, “Sam, what the hell are you tryin’ to do?” He asked, mostly breathless, eyes wide, cheeks flushed red now. Fuck, he just wanted to throw his brother down at this point and tear his clothes off, but he resisted.

_I’ve come too far to turn back now._  “Was tryin’ to hit on the guy I like,” Sam shifted further back on Dean’s thighs, “Apparently it didn’t work though,” The younger Winchester smiled weakly, “Thanks for the shitty advice.”

Dean moved at once, grabbing his brother’s wrists and pushing him back, laying him out along the end of the mattress, his head near the foot of the bed. He held his brother down, staring into Sam’s eyes for a split second before he leaned in low.

He didn’t kiss Sam, like the younger Winchester was probably expecting, considering the suddenly raising jaw. Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s ear and whispered, “You don’t always have to be so goddamn stubborn an’ impossible, Sammy. I think I have ‘nuff of that for the both of us, don’t you think?”

“How am I bein’ stubborn?” The younger Winchester fought back, trying to wiggle out of Dean’s grip as he intentionally pushed his hips upwards. Sam tried not to smile, tried not to take simple pleasure in the fact that his big brother had him pinned down. Sam found himself enjoying it more than he should’ve anyway.

“You tryin’a worm these thin’s outta me, you tryin’a sneak it passed,” Dean responded to Sam’s hips, his own thrusting against his brother’s as if he was fucking him.

His teeth and lips touched parts of Sam’s ears as he whispered, “You gotta make ‘vrythin’ ‘bout poor little Sammy, poor Sammy doesn’t like it when his brother is tryin’  _ **hard**  _not to fuck ‘im into next week. You gotta keep on pushin’ an’ bein’ pouty when you don’t get your way’. I should ‘xpect this from you. S’all you ever do.”

Sam rolled his eyes a little, he couldn’t argue though, he knew he was moody, “You wanna fuck me?” The younger Winchester smiled against the side of Dean’s face, absentmindedly spreading his legs further. This isn’t what Sam was expecting, he was sure as soon as Dean knew Sam had feelings for him that he’d get some sort of disgusted look and a shiner that wouldn’t fade for a month, but he could deal with this.

“‘M tryin’ not to,” Dean said, lips pressing near his brother’s right eye, “I been tryin’ not to all night, all you’re doin’ is pushin’ me.” His right hand moved, fingers lifting up Sam’s pajama top and touching the warm skin underneath as he thrust his hips again, the hard length worrying it’s shape against Sam’s thigh.

“Want to,” The older Winchester was saying as he kissed along his brother’s cheek in slow, lazy drags, “Wanna fuck you so bad. But I shouldn’t, I  **really**  shouldn’t.”

“Since when?” Sam’s breath shuddered a little at how good it felt to have Dean’s hand on his skin, “Only been messing with you for a few minutes.”

The younger Winchester could feel the outline of Dean’s erection against his own, causing his hips to buck a little against his brother for friction. Sam wasn’t sure he was quite ready to have  **sex**  with Dean, considering he  _just_  practically told him how he felt and all, but it wasn’t a horrible prospect either; things had just escalated a little quicker than he anticipated was all.

“Earlier, holdin’ you,” Dean pulled back, staring down at the younger Winchester with dark eyes, black with lust as he fought to calm himself, to put everything back in check, “‘Fore we decided to watch this…” He glanced at the movie, “An’ got a bit distracted.”

He chuckled and reached back, grabbing the remote and pausing the screen before he returned to his brother, scooping Sam up into his arms and laying against the headboard with the younger Winchester resting on his chest.

It was ridiculous really how easy it was for Dean to just pull Sam up. The younger Winchester couldn’t help the way heat pooled in his stomach, it’s not like he was a damsel in distress or anything; it just… _felt nice_.

Sam laid his hand on Dean’s chest and looked at his brother seriously, all hints of humor wiped clean, “I wasn’t tryin’ to push you earlier, I just-,” Sam sighed, couldn’t find the words, “I know this is a lot to take in for one day, me havin’ an attack on you and now this. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean stayed still, one hand wrapped around the small of his brother’s back, the other gripping Sam’s forearm, thumb brushing along the hairs there. He didn’t respond for much, just pulled Sam closer and kissed his forehead, kissed his hair and closed his eyes as he let out a smooth, controlled breath; finally having calmed himself back.

He was overwhelmed, too much happening at once, and it was almost like he was seeing double at this point, but he kept himself down, putting his brother’s safety and comfort first. They weren’t ready for this, neither of them.

“I know a lot of the time you do whatever it is you think I want,” Sam closed his eyes with his head high against Dean’s chest, “But  _this_ ,” The younger Winchester tightened his hand in Dean’s shirt to get his point across, “If this is somethin’ you  **don’t**  want then I understand. It’s just hard for me to not feel this way… ya know?”

Talking about things had lessened the dull ache in his jeans, that was probably a good thing though. This type of thing is something you should probably talk about before you jump in head first.

“How can I lookit you,” Dean started, voice soft and small, “An’ not wanna be with you, Sammy? You’re… You’re everythin’ in my life. Everythin’ that makes sense, everythin’ I live for.” He pulled Sam closer and pressed his lips to his brother’s forehead, “Trust me, this is what I want. More than anythin’, this is what I want.”

Sam slid his hand up to Dean’s neck, his fingers idly touching the scruff along his brother’s neck and jaw. It was hard to look at Dean and not feel some overwhelming sense of love, he did  _everything_ for Sam; he was everything _to_  Sam.

“You’re everything to me to,” Sam admitted, his cheeks flushed slightly. This was heavy talk for as young as they were, but he also knew that their age had jack shit to do with what they felt. It was true, all of it. As young as they were, they’d seen more in their time than most old men. So, if there was anything Sam was sure of, it was this. It may have started out as adoration for his big brother, but he didn’t regret one bit that it turned out to be so much more.

Dean stared into his brother’s eyes, reading into them, seeing his reflection in them and feeling his chest tighten. He reached out, cupping Sam’s jaw in his large hand, tilting his head up more before Dean leaned down and covered his brother’s mouth with his own.

He didn’t want for much often, if ever, but he wanted this. He wanted to taste Sam, he wanted to feel at rest for  _once_  in his life, to not feel like he was endlessly chasing something, whether it was self-appreciation, or his father’s respect, he knew he got both from his brother. He needed Sam, _himself_ , for a change.

Sam was nervous at first and couldn’t will his lips to move, not only was this is first kiss, but it was also  **Dean**. The younger Winchester could feel his heart thrumming wildly in his chest, hyper aware of the fact that he hadn’t so much as moved. Sam took a deep breath in through his nose and leaned into it a little more, he’d seen Dean do this enough times that he thought he had it down pat just from watching.

A head tilt and a few movements of his lips later and it didn’t feel so awkward, almost came easier. Dean’s lips were full, wet and warm and Sam contemplated staying like this all night long, because it was one of the most perfect things he’d ever felt.

Sam’s lips tasted something like the sweet, warm hot chocolate Dean had prepared. He didn’t have much of it himself, ever really, so it was a treat of flavor. The younger Winchester’s skin was soft under Dean’s rough hands, worn from guns, cards, training and, most of all,  _age_. Just being older than Sam entitled him to that one.

He was almost worried that the baby soft skin under his palm would get irritated, his stubble probably didn’t help, but he responded to the sweet, careful, innocent moves of his brother’s jaw. His own mouth opened wider, unable to resist it as his tongue flicked out an licked over the gentle pucker of his brother’s lips.

He couldn’t imagine how strong the alcohol on his own breath was, especially to his brother, but it had to be something fierce.

Sam’s breathing hitched ever so slightly when he felt Dean’s tongue on his lips. Dean may have been the more experienced one when it came to this, but Sam wanted to feel like he was really contributing to the kiss. Sam’s hand was still loosely on his brother’s jaw, he pressed the tip of his tongue to Dean’s experimentally, sighing at how slick, warm and good it felt.

The taste of alcohol on his brother’s tongue gliding against his own made Sam feel lightheaded, but he knew the alcohol wasn’t to blame, it was just Dean. In between a few needy presses of their lips, Sam sucked on the tip of Dean’s tongue then nibble slightly on his bottom lip, scared out of his mind that maybe he was biting too hard.

The older Winchester groaned in appreciation, eyebrows raising in surprise at his younger brother. But, then again, Sam had always been such a fast learner.

He took up his brother, pulling Sam into his lap and grabbing him by the back of the head, forcing his face to tilt as Dean responded. He took up Sam’s bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth and sucking on it so hard he was sure it’d be swollen when he was done. Dean had been wanting this for so long, craving his brother in ways he probably shouldn’t, but how could he deny them  _both_ of what they wanted, when it was clearly each other?

They were back into the same position they were when this all started, Sam’s legs wrapped around Dean’s hips. It was different this time, more intimate and Sam couldn’t help that all of his blood migrated to below the draw string on his pajamas.

The younger Winchester whimpered and pulled his body away a little, resting his forehead on Dean’s temple, “I’m sorry it’s just,” Sam let out a heavy breath, “Feels too good.” Sam knew he shouldn’t have to apologize, he was fifteen and things less significant than this usually had him hard. He’d been restraining himself for the most part, trying to keep his mind focused on something else.

Dean chuckled, brushing Sam’s cheek and pulling him back in for a short, soft kiss, his other hand splayed out at the base of his brother’s spine, warmth bleeding into the cotton, “It’s okay, baby boy. Don’t apologize, you’re just human.” He smirked, thumbing the younger Winchester’s jaw as he began to kiss along it, letting out steam of his own.

“That,” Sam relaxed and rolled his head to the side to give Dean better access, “Feels even better.” If Sam wasn’t so wrapped up in the moment, he’d feel embarrassed for himself; but his brother’s downright sinful lips were making it hard to think past the aching throb in his pants.

The younger Winchester wrapped his smaller arms around Dean’s shoulders and brought himself closer, dragging his hips a little as he did so.

“Mm,” Dean hummed as he sat up, his hand cradling his brother’s neck as his lips attacked the opposite side, teeth and tongue tasting a trail down Sam’s neck to the line of his pajama top and Dean sucked the skin there.

His brother’s voice was in his ear, that virgin response, reminding him how little his brother even knew about what Dean was doing to him.

He hated the fact that  **that**  alone, that thought, of how new this was to his brother, turned him on more than just about anything else. It was more than just  _Sam_ , more than his brother, more than his everything, but to be here first, hopefully  **only** , made him rock hard in a second flat.

He could wait, he  **would**  wait, he  **had** to wait. But, when it happened, it was going to be worth it.


End file.
